


Your Style, Mine

by Barkour



Category: Monster High
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Knotting, PWP, Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clawd is fur-ever a gentleman, and he would never take advantage of Draculaura's trust. Well, Draculaura will fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Style, Mine

**Author's Note:**

> It's just porn. That's all it is. Just dirt.

At the first. 

Draculaura crept up on Clawd, fleet on her toes, where he sat on a maul bench waiting for her, yes, waiting for Draculaura. She'd meant to surprise him. As she threw her arms around him, embracing his thick shoulders from the back, she thought she had.

"Guess who!"

"Draculaura," said Clawd, voice warm with his humor. "That's easy." He presented his profile. 

Draculaura huffed and set her chin on his shoulder. With Clawd sitting, she was equal to his height. She had to stoop only a fraction.

"Aw. I wanted to surprise you."

"You did," he said, turning about to kiss her cheek. "I wasn't expecting you for another half hour."

"I meant by hugging you!" She slapped his shoulder. 

Clawd laughed and kissed her stuck out lip. "Sorry, Draculaura. But I smelled you coming up from across the maul."

"You're saying I smell badly?" She drew away and pressed her hand to her throat, trembling at the thought.

"Aw, you know I don't mean that."

Draculaura laughed, too, and embraced him again, her cheek to his cheek, the fur of his sideburns only just itching at her skin.

"I was only teasing."

"Good," he said, "'cause you know I think you smell better than any other ghoul I know." 

He reached back to her, and Draculaura let Clawd hoist her over the bench to seat her next to him. For a moment, in the moving, she was all but sitting in his lap, and then he set her on the bench. Ever the gentleman.

Clawd held her hand, still. Surely that was enough. Draculaura cleared her throat and scooted closer. Her thigh to his thigh. She covered the back of his dark hand with her pale pink fingers. She'd lacquered her fingers only that day; blue, his favorite color. Had he noticed? Would he?

"Actually," she said, "I came early because I wanted to ask you if you would come with me on this little bitty trip I'm taking on the weekend. My vamp-daddy says he can't make it, and I don't want to go to the big city all on my own."

His brow creased. Clawd gripped her hand then eased his touch. "I don't know, I mean--" He looked away from her then looked at her again. 

"My daddy is totes fine with it," Draculaura promised him, "he says you're the perfect gentleman."

"If we're alone--"

She flittered her hand. "Oh, we'll be out and about all day. We'll be so tired after all that fright-seeing we'll tumble right into our coffins!"

"Not sure I'm barking for that coffin-falling," said Clawd. A smile marked his soft lips. "It would be nice to go on a vacation, just the two of us. You don't have to be back for classes Monday?"

"I've already taken the day off, when it was going to be me and Daddy," said Draculaura swiftly, "and you don't have any Monday classes at the Boo-niversity, so it would be such a waste not to enjoy the reservations. Especially since we're both so busy now. You at college and me a senior ghoul. We hardly ever get any time to spoil each other."

Still, he hesitated, even as he held her hand and leaned to her, those pretty eyes of his steady on her face. Oh, if he'd kiss her! she thought. But Draculaura widened her eyes; she fluttered her lashes; she went for the jugular, if that were the sort of thing she did.

"And I know," she said earnestly, bringing his hand up to squeeze between her breasts, "that you would never, ever take advantage of my trust in you."

Clawd opened his mouth. He would say no, she thought in despair; and after all the work she'd done to make it all so perfect. 

"Okay," said Clawd. He smiled, the most positively handsome manster she had ever known, at her. "Let's do it. You're right; we haven't had any real fun together in weeks."

"Ages!"

"It'll be fun," he continued, "checking out all the sights."

"Oh, yes," Draculaura agreed, "we'll have so much fun checking them all out," and she leaned up to kiss the end of his nose. 

That was Tuesday.

*

What was Friday? 

Her boots at the door, his sneakers beside them. She'd wiggled out of her zip-up dress at the bed while he stripped out of his tight, so awfully tight, shirt and pulled at the button of his jeans. So easy, after all the arguments she'd written out to practice, thinking of Saturday evening, to pull Clawd into bed with her a day early. 

His eyes, fixed on her face, as he said, "You should know--"

"I know," Draculaura said breathlessly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss his chin, "really, you think I don't know? About the knotting?"

"You shouldn't know." 

He was embarrassed, not angry, and Draculaura swallowed the giggles bubbling in her throat.

"I know lots of things, Mister Wolf," she said, trying at the flirt, "but maybe you could show me a few?" and she'd giggled after all. 

He'd sighed, a huff, and kissed her firmly, and when she led him to the bed he followed. She spread her legs after a few minutes of kissing, his hands on her breasts, her hands on his muscled arms, but he hadn't done it then. Clawd had kissed her and murmured, "I'm gonna lick you, okay."

"On my mouth?"

"Little lower," he said, grinning, and he'd showed her a few things then.

The lantern they'd left on at the door flickered and steadied, and Draculaura closed her eyes against it at the peak. She could not bear the light when there was so much light inside her. He came up, after, wiping his lips on his wrist first, to kiss her again in the quiet of their hotel room, the big city outside and no longer important.

Like that, for long moments, a century, an eternity, kissing languidly in the room. She was in his lap, then, and he was heavy and hard and content to lick at her fangs. For a time she was content with it too. Then the heat of him was too much to resist. She moved.

Clawd drew out of the kiss. The air was cool on her lips, and Draculaura startled at the absence he left. She pouted; he touched two fingers to her mouth. They were slick, still, from her cunt. (Cleo's gift, that word.) Another small pulse worked between her legs, a reminder.

"And you're sure about this?"

How soft, his eyes. When had she first noticed the sweetness of them? Oh, it seemed long centuries ago. Now he stroked a sticky finger along her jaw. If her heart beat, it would shake her.

Seated in his lap, the weight of his arousal unbearable hot at the small of her back, Draculaura wound her arms about his neck, first one arm and then the other. His nose flared; his carnivore's teeth showed; he looked, suddenly, embarrassed, as though he had not an hour ago sucked on her fingertips and her long nails while he scissored his own fingers inside her.

"Of course I'm sure." 

She smiled down at him. Her fingers linked as she shifted in his lap, bending her arms so that her palms settled on his nape. The finely haired skin broke into small bumps from the chill of her skin, and Clawd buried his nose into her neck and breathed.

"You don't have to worry so much about me, Clawd, although it's very charming of you. And," she added, "very romantic, too."

Clawd laughed, a short chortle buried in her throat. His nose slid along the column of her neck; he bent, curling about her, to press one kiss and then a second to each small breast.

"'Cause I'm so good at romance."

"This has been very romantic," said Draculaura. "You brought me those lovely pink roses wrapped in the spider webs."

He smiled. She felt the shape of his sweet mouth on her breast. "I did, didn't I. So you liked them?" He looked up at her, his chin where his mouth had sat.

"Oh, Clawd, I loved them!" She wiggled happily in his lap, and Clawd's dear eyes closed. Incisors, again, in his lower lip. His cock was so very, very warm. "You're so--wonderfully darling. So cute!" 

"Cute?"

Draculaura let go of his neck to cover her face. "How embarrassing. You don't want to hear that. Boys don't want to be told they're cute."

He caught her hand in his and pulled it to his neck again. Draculaura came with it, settling on his chest, breasts, and unmoving heart beneath, flush with his broad and hairy chest. The curls of fur scratched at her skin. She shifted closer.

Clawd was smiling at her, lopsided, his gold eyes half-lidded with something so like love she knew it to be true, truer than anything any other boy had given her. 

"I like it when you call me cute," Clawd told her. His eyes lowered; he didn't look at her breasts, but somewhere else, some thing between them. "Not something I hear a whole lot. Big, physically intimidating, tough on the field..."

"And cute," said Draculaura. 

He dimpled; his lashes rose. Such thick, dark lashes, too! 

"That too," he said. "If you say so."

"I do. I did!"

She kissed him, worrying his lips with her own fangs. She did it lightly, so as not to break the skin; the thought of Clawd's blood in her mouth made her stomach twist.

He smoothed a hand up her back, flowing along the turn of her spine to cup her head in his great hand.

"You're sure." He said it to her lips, to her teeth, to the stillness of her breath.

"I'm sure," said Draculaura. She smiled as she kissed him again, chastely now, lightly. The lantern in the corner glowed steadily. So, too, Draculaura. "Why do you think I wanted you to come with me on this trip?"

"Ohhhh," said Clawd, "trying to get me alone. Take advantage of me. Pretty sneaky, Draculaura."

She pretended to primp, batting at her loose-falling hair as if it were tucked up. "I do try to surprise you. You should, ah, maybe punish me?"

He rubbed her back, and Draculaura, half-shy, half-teasing, wriggled carefully, to push against Clawd so his teeth would show.

His voice roughened. "No, ghoul," he said, "I'd never punish you. I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Draculaura slipped boneless against him. "And you say you're not romantic," she said, and she kissed him again, her lashes low, his breath like steam on her tongue. "I'm sure, Clawd. I'm ready. Please, for me."

"All right," he said, "all right. If you want me."

"I do," Draculaura said, and Clawd gave in.

She'd some expectation of what it would be like. In the long months before she'd first looked up at Clawd and saw not her best friend's brother but a friend of her own, with such gentle eyes, she had giggled with Clawdeen over the mandatory sex ed books. 

"Do they really--"

"Oh, my full moon," Clawdeen had said, tossing a hand, "all the wolves do it."

Draculaura only giggled harder. "But it sounds so uncomfortable!"

"Well, don't look at me!" Clawdeen poked at Draculaura's shoulder. "You never wonder why you don't see me dating hairy guys? Knots are not my style."

"But surely if they do it..."

"Maybe some ghouls like it! But if you ask me, I think it's just weird. But you don't get to say that, okay?"

"No, no!" said Draculaura. "Of course not. It isn't my business! My lips are zipped." She mimed.

"Not your business unless you fall in love with some mooning wereboy," said Clawdeen.

(Had Clawd come downstairs, then? Yes, he had, grumbling that they didn't have enough in the house to eat, and he'd stared at them as they tried to squelch their laughing in their fingers. 

"Ghouls," he said, "I'll never get you."

"Please," Draculaura had ventured, "don't?" and Clawdeen had howled.)

Once or twice, too, in her long ago youth, by the lakes of an older century, Draculaura had felt at a handsome boy, a kind boy, who touched her gently in return. Those were honey days, strange now, far away from her.

Clawd, holding her tightly in his arm, used his free hand to direct himself to her. She'd a moment, to remember what it had felt like to have a fluttering heart, and then the thick head of him pushed between her folds. Draculaura gasped. Her hands, as her heart would, fluttered at his nape.

Immediately he froze. "Too much?"

"No, no!" said Draculaura. He was so big, she thought; he was so big and she was so small. "No, I need--only a moment. Please."

His thighs trembled beneath her. Clawd nuzzled her jaw. Lips, brushing the heart-shaped birthmark on her cheek. 

It had been his idea, that Draculaura should sit atop him: that she should control it. The thought had startled her: she'd presumed all sex with boys meant that the boy would be on top and the girl, demure like a lady.

"Long as you need," he said. Another kiss to her heart. "You want to stop, you just say."

She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed, and breathed, and breathed. The breadth of him inside her, that head, only the head: the hugeness of it seemed to ease. He was not so big she could not take him.

"More," she said. 

He obliged, another inch, a third. How relentless, the pressure; her thoughts scattered and collected, scattered again. Her breath came restlessly.

Clawd was sweated now, the hair of his chest sticky against her breasts. She tucked her face to the crook of his neck, and he turned his head, jaw along the side of her brow. 

"You okay?"

She nodded. She ached, again, as she had when he'd begun to move his fingers in her, to suckle at her fingers before he turned that rough tongue to her nub (it's a clit, she imagined Clawdeen saying).

He petted her back, and she, too, was sweated. "You sure? We can still sto--ah!"

Draculaura, holding her breath, pushed lower on his cock. So far, she'd stretched; she felt deliriously, skin-pricklingly filled. And yet, and yet: giggling, into her fingers as Clawdeen showed her the diagrams in the book. That one brief, guilty look as Clawd shook his head and left for the kitchen, muttering about ghouls: looking between his legs and wondering, Clawd too?

She swallowed. Her mouth was sticky, her teeth dry. Yes. More. 

"Draculaura." He husked, speaking to her shoulder, face hid in it. His teeth moved over her skin as he spoke, and Draculaura felt that light pressure stinging her, stinging in her breasts. "You--are you sure--" 

Clawd panted. She was nearly there. Wonder washed over her. So much inside her; soon, all. 

"You gotta be sure." His voice cracked. "Once--once I get in you--Draculaura, we're not gonna be able to stop."

Touch me, she thought. Kiss me. Bite at my breasts. The thoughts burned in her. 

"Good," said Draculaura, and she took, yes, another stretch, a last stretch, she took the bulge of his swelling knot into her cunt.

Clawd groaned. His teeth sank into her shoulder. Once, twice, a third time, his hips jerked in little pushes. The finely furred and swollen curves of his balls pressed to her skin. 

Her knees tightened at his hips; her thighs, too, trembled, and Draculaura said, "Oh," in some small surprise new found. "That's--oh. That does feel strange."

He licked at her shoulder; his teeth let go, but he remained there, nuzzling at the bite. "You're--amazing. So good. Draculaura, I--" 

Another jerk. The fatness of his knot rubbed at her, not pulling out but rocking against her entrance. This, and the length of his shaft, the great knob of his cock head pushing deep inside her: Draculaura was smiling; she was laughing, breathless.

"And you were so worried!" she said. "But I--but I--" She scratched at his head, nails through his thick hair, her thumbs pressing into his ears and rubbing so that he gasped. "Oh, Clawd, please, don't just sit there, please--you--you have to take care of me, too."

"I got you," he said, "I got you, I got you right here, Draculaura, you just tell me what you want, whatever you want--"

She clenched around him. Vengeance, perhaps; why would he not drive her? The groan that rose from Clawd's chest turned in his throat to a growl.

"I want you," said Draculaura, almost angry, "I want Clawd! Please!"

He nodded. He nodded again, and he shook his head, and then he grabbed her hands and pulled them behind his neck. 

"You," he said, "you steer me, okay?" and Draculaura dug her nails into his skin, either side of the column of bone. Clawd laughed. Nothing shadowed it. He was pleased; he was pleased with her. "Yeah," he said, "just like that."

"So move!" she snapped.

Clawd moved. Shallow, hard jerks, rocking her hard in his lap. Draculaura said, "Yes, yes, oh, Clawd, you're wonderful, you're, oh, you're so _strong_ ," and he petted her hair, her ears, her back, the small swell of her bottom. Claws so delicate in the touching.

He groaned her name, half a chant, and pulled her nearer, tugged at her arse. Experimenting, she rolled her hips to meet him, and Clawd stuttered on her name.

"Harder," she said, "you can do harder. You won't break me."

She had thought, with the knot, that it would mean he could not fuck into her: he could not stroke. Yet even with the movement limited, Clawd continued to push, pull, push again. Her skin hummed. Her breasts ached for touching. 

"You're so good," he said, lipping at the soft underside of her jaw. "Draculaura-- You don't know, all the times I wished that--that I'd noticed you sooner. That I'd--kissed you--that night, in the rain--"

"When you, you walked me home." She was glowing, yes, she knew it.

"When I walked you home." He groaned again, grinding slowly into her. Had his knot thickened? "You--looked up at me--and you touched my arm, and--"

"I wanted you to kiss me," Draculaura whispered to his ear. "I--wished that you would--even though you were Clawdeen's brother, and--"

"And you said I was sweet," Clawd said, "and--"

"Oh, please touch me!" she burst out. "Please, oh, Clawd, please won't you touch me?"

"I'll touch you," he said, "I'll touch you, baby," and he bent to scrape his teeth over her breast, and Draculaura grabbed his ears and held him to her. 

He bit; he licked; he pulled at her nipple, the softer flesh under her breast; he turned to the other to lave it, and Draculaura moaned, then shrieked, then gasped when he bounced her up in his lap.

"Yes," she said, "yes, yes, yes, oh, Clawd, you're perfect, you're _perfect_ , you're--oh!"

Clawd growled again and bit at her breast, and in the same moment he bounced her again and shoved deeper into her, and she clenched, unable not to, and Clawd said, unsteadily, "Draculaura," and then--and then he was coming inside of her. Hot, so very hot, when ever had she last felt so warm? He pulsed; how much?

"Oh," she said; was this it, then? "Is it--is it over already?"

He lifted his head. Clawd looked at her through his lashes. Pupils so black, his irises gold rings. The black of his lashes fanned across his eyes. 

Clawd said, "Keep moving," and he rolled his hips in a little circle. "You keep moving. Squeeze on me."

Draculaura said, "I don't want it to be over," and she did squeeze. 

Clawd groaned; his neck arched; the knob in his throat bobbed, and he was coming, still. He was coming, again.

"You--"

"Keep going," he rasped. "Keep going. Till you feel good too."

She did move then, twisting her hips. The fullness of his cock persisted; he was thick and hard inside her, and his hips twitched continuously. Draculaura touched his chest, fingertips light against a nipple. Running a finger around it, she twisted again. Clawd whimpered. He was shaking against her. 

A smile moved slowly across her face; she felt it turning to a beam. She could not look away from him. She would not close her eyes, no matter how the light stung her.

"You trust me," she said. "You love me."

"You know I do." He swallowed. His head moved restlessly.

"You want me," she said. 

"Yes," said Clawd, fingers of one hand grabbing at an ear, "yes, I want you, and--" His long, broad tongue showed. He licked at his lips. "I want to make you come all around me."

"Oh," she said. She batted her eyelashes and swiveled on him. "You do, do you?"

Clawd grinned. So many teeth! Her cunt throbbed; she wanted him deeper, hot again as he came. 

"Yeah," he said. "I'm gonna make you scream."

"Well," said Draculaura, "then why don't you stop holding back on me?"

"I'm not holding anything back from you," said Clawd, and she pulled to the side and he followed. 

Her heels, at his back. The hotel sheets sleek against her sweating back. Ankles, crossed. She undulated against him. Even beneath, so much power. Clawd fucked into her without pause, driving, driving, driving. She bit his jaw; he groaned. She clawed at his shoulders; he shoved deep as he could so she shrieked. 

Oh, she ached. She needed more. Clawd bit at her breasts and licked at her collar; he left a necklace of harsh kisses along her throat that had Draculaura sighing and clinging to him and wishing she'd blood to bruise.

What had he worried about? Clawd pounded into her, and she tingled with it, aching too, rubbing as she tried against him. Moaning, she reached between them, and Clawd, nibbling at her ear, batted her hand away.

"But Clawd!"

"Let me take care of you." His tongue flicked in her ear. Better yet, the slow brush of a finger along her nub: clit. "You gonna let me take care of you, Draculaura?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed, "Clawd, please take care of me. You always do. My big, strong, sweet man."

He hummed in her ear and said, "Gonna take care of you long as you want. Long as you need. Rest of your unlife." He pinched at her clit; he rolled it; he rubbed and rubbed at it as he shoved deeper and deeper. 

The knot, the knot: they were tied together there, as long as she squeezed at him. Pleasure moved through her. His mouth, at her nipple. Each thrust now drove her legs wider. Her feet slipped from his back to the crooks inside his knees; her own knees fell apart. 

The sheets rucked beneath her, driven higher with each movement. She moved with him, in time to every beat he offered. 

"You're beautiful," she said, "you're wonderful--oh, so sweet--" Draculaura broke off, keening. 

The knot rubbed relentlessly at her cunt, massaging the ring then pushing in. Pleasure moved in and through and over her, sparking from the touch of his hand, the weight of his palm settled along her groin, the scrape of a thumb's claw over her clit: the pressure, so marvelous, of his cock spreading her and, as she clenched helplessly about his knot, filling her too. 

"C'mon," Clawd said to her, licking at her nipple, "you can do this, Draculaura. You got it. Come on and score. Take it away from me." Again, again, pushing, pushing. He was so fat in her, so deep; she swelled with the heat. 

"Clawd," she said, voice shaking, then, "Clawd--Clawd! Clawd!" 

It was his name she wailed when she came again, tightening convulsively around his cock, his knot, so he was coming too, inside her and with her. Clawd, Clawd, Clawd. Only Clawd. Ever Clawd. So very perfect. 

Breathing heavily she clung to him. He, too, shook with the work of breathing; his hands passed over her arms, her breasts, her sides and hips and legs. Bit by bit, inch by inch, Clawd softened inside her. Echoes moved inside her. Draculaura shivered. The knot eased, and gently, oh, he was always so gentle, Clawd pulled from her. She ached even so, sore, beautifully sore.

She peeked at him: why peek? Her hand slipped from her face. Come, some last string, marked the cock head, white against his brown skin; he wiped it in the sheet. 

Draculaura pouted and said, "You could let me do that."

Clawd laughed, weak with the exertion, trembling yet. Did she smell like him? 

"Maybe next time," he ventured, and he ducked his head. Looked up at her through those wondrous eyelashes.

"Yes," she said, and happiness beat in her. "Yes. Next time. Oh, when will next time be?"

She reached for him. Clawd rose to hold her. They fell together to the bed, where only sweat marked the sheets. His breathing steadied hers; her calming steadied him.

"Any time you want," he said. He kissed her brow, her cheek, her nose and lips, and Draculaura giggled. She circled his biceps in her hands, tugged it close, to cuddle with her face.

"An hour," she said. His come lingered inside her. She never wanted it to go. How deep? How warm. "A half hour."

Clawd groaned. "You'll wear my fur off."

"Then I'll knit you a coat for winter."

"Or you could be my coat," he joked.

Draculaura wound herself around him. Perhaps she was small and he so large, but she could wrap him as well as any mummy. Clawd curled, to make it easier for her to embrace the whole of him. The heat of him lulled her.

"And you say you're not a romantic."

"You said that earlier." 

Fondly, he brushed the hair from her eyes. She closed them and tipped her face up, and he kissed her lightly, softly, sweetly.

"Well, it's true," she said. "You, my Clawd, are a hopeless romantic."

"And you're wrong," he said, "my Draculaura. You're perfect."

"No," she said, "that's you."

"You."

"Us," Draculaura suggested.

Clawd reached over her to fumble for the comforter, discarded on the plain carpet beside the bed in a mountainous mound. 

"Yeah," he said, rough and warm, "us," and he pulled the comforter over the both of them, and Draculaura felt as like summer, cozy with Clawd, wonderful Clawd, sweet Clawd, her Clawd. She drifted. She floated. She flew. If she had a heart, it soared.

She stroked his cheek, carding her fingers sleepily through his thick sideburns. He caught her wrist, to bring her hand about to kiss her knuckles.

"I like your nails," he said. "Blue. Looks good on you."

Draculaura smiled so her face hurt. "You should wear more pink," she said. "You'd look so handsome in it."

"Probably," he said, holding her fingers in his hand. "Pink is you."

**Author's Note:**

> "How can Draculaura sweat if she has no blood?" LISTEN:
> 
> I gotta go, bye.


End file.
